I sat at the long banquet table in the dining room with my father and my younger brother and sister later that night. I had always thought that the amount of food that was prepared each night that would eventually just be thrown out was outrageous, especially when there were people in Tyramell who were starving. I had tried numerous times to convince my father to give our left overs to the poor but he had always dismissed the idea and went on to things that he had claimed were more important.

"It's all about what's best for Tyramell," My ass!

When I become king, I'm going to focus on the less privilege people in my own country that everyone always turns a blind eye to before I become involved in foreign affairs. I guessed that I would be a good ruler in that sense but I still wasn't entirely convinced that this whole "king" thing would be a good idea.

I had barely touched the food on my plate by the time the servants started clearing away the dishes. I felt my father's eyes on me but I still kept my gaze down. I didn't even look up when he instructed a servant to prepare my brother and sister for bed.

"Jack," My father said when we were the only two remaining in the room. I looked up to see my father's brown eyes, the ones that were identical to my own, filled with concern. "Are you okay? You've seemed kind of off lately. . ."

I put on a convincing smile and nodded. There was no way in hell that I was telling my dad how I really felt. I didn't want to risk anything. "I'm just stressed, I suppose."

"That's understandable," My father chuckled. "It's a lot to have on your shoulders at once, huh?"

"Yeah. . . A lot,"I replied slowly, not quite sure where my father was going with this.

"I'm getting the impression that you're holding something back."

I shrugged and looked back down at my lap. "I just need someone to talk to. Someone that will help me with my problems, I guess,"I said. And it was true. I did want someone to talk to. I was lonely as hell even though it seemed like people were always around me.

"Like a personal servant!"

"No, no, dad. Not a servant," I said quickly but he didn't hear me. He was too busy telling a group of servants to go out and find me the best personal servant in the kingdom. Typical dad, not listening to a single word I say. No use in arguing, though. He's the king so he always gets what he wants.

"That's great, dad,"I muttered and walked out of the room but I doubt he noticed.

I walked down the long corridor, up the spiral staircase, and down another corridor to get to my room. Just the freakin' walk to my room wore me out. It's things like that that make me hate being a prince. Well, I hate being a prince for a lot of reasons.

For starters, way too much is expected of me. I'm expected to always be a good role model, always look nice, never screw up, etc. If anyone really knew me (which no one does because I'm not allowed outside the palace long enough to meet anyone), they would know that I am nothing like what is expected of me. All that bullshit I do in public, it's just a show! (And apparently I'm a pretty good actor.) In all honesty, I'm just a normal seventeen year old dude who wants to have friends, go out and party, get drunk, get laid by a pretty girl (Or boy. If they're hot, they're hot. It's all the same to me.), get into stupid little fights with my dad for not letting me have my way, and just fucking enjoy what's left of my teenage years. But all of that is an unheard of thing for me just because a crown is on my father's head.
The crown on his head gave me access to a lot of good things and opportunities that most people would kill to have but I would give everything up for the chance to be the me that only I know exists.